


Jameson & Ginger

by ItsALilah



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attachment Issues, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, Not sponsored by Jameson, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Therapy talk, These kids are fooling themselves, Voice Kink, no virgins here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsALilah/pseuds/ItsALilah
Summary: It's been eleven months and three days since Rey's had sex. Now she's out on the prowl, needing some form of connection, when a tall drink of water with a voice like sin rolls up to the hipster bar she's hunting in. She drinks Jameson and Gingers, he drinks bourbon neat, and they're just what the other needs.--------------When Rose starts her night with a Jameson and ginger, it’s virtually guaranteed that the petite Asian will be taking a swing at some misogynistic dudebro by the end of the night. With Finn, it means he’ll be hugging everyone, clinging to their necks while telling them how much he “really, truly loves them.” Jameson and ginger turns Poe into even more of a daredevil, which is especially problematic given that Jameson alone always leads to Poe losing his pants.When Rey drinks Jameson and ginger, however, it means she wants to get laid.





	Jameson & Ginger

**Author's Note:**

> **Attention! In case you haven't noticed, this fic's rated explicit and, per the tags, this is smut. Pure, unadulterated, un-beta'd smutty filth. So, if you don't want smut, like smut, or aren't old enough to read smut, click away now.**
> 
>  
> 
> **This fic also touches on abandonment issues and therapy. It's not a dark fic, but Rey's not in a good headspace and neither is Kylo, so, this isn't going to be a shining example of healthy relationships. If you're uncomfortable with these topics, again, I urge you to click back.**
> 
>  
> 
> For those of you still here, let the dumpster fire begin. *rubs hands together*

Rey Jones has a theory.

Her theory is that a person’s night is defined by their drink of choice. Whatever poison they choose, be it hard liquor or beer, will set them down a certain course, one that allows no detours, no deviation. Simply put, a person’s drinks are like an alcoholic astrological sign (ironic, given that Rey thinks astrology is a load of shite), but only mandating their destiny for that one night.

Rey’s done a lot of research on this subject, of course, using herself as both control and test subject. She’s found that different people react in different ways to different drinks.

Take whiskey and ginger, for example. Specifically, Jameson and ginger, with a twist of lime. When Rose starts her night with a Jameson and ginger, it’s virtually guaranteed that the petite Asian will be taking a swing at some misogynistic dudebro by the end of the night. With Finn, it means he’ll be hugging everyone, clinging to their necks while telling them how much he “really, truly loves them.” Jameson and ginger turns Poe into even more of a daredevil, which is especially problematic given that Jameson alone always leads to Poe losing his pants.

When Rey drinks Jameson and ginger, however, it means she wants to get laid.

Which is exactly why she orders it as she slides onto the uncomfortable wooden seat of a darkly-stained barstool, illuminated by bare Edison bulbs hanging from exposed wires. The tell-tale signs of a hipster dive bar, but Rey’s beyond caring.

She’s lost her ability toucan, as the kids today say.

Her knee bops in place as she waits for her drink, the patent leather of her black pump reflecting light as she jiggles. It’s not a nervous tick; no, this is excess energy trying to work itself out. She’s a ball of tension in human form.

In short, Rey Jones really needs a good fucking, which is exactly why she’s here.

She takes a deep breath, as if steadying herself. The bartender, a tall, Amazonian blonde, slides her drink to her in a glass mason jar, and Rey has to resist rolling her eyes. The green glass gives the liquid inside a sickly yellow sheen, but she doesn’t care. She swirls it with the metal straw before taking a sip, the sweet taste of ginger ale chased by the warm burn of Jameson. Despite being served in such a tall glass, the drink’s strong, and Rey gains a new appreciation for this place.

Rey hasn’t done _this_ in a while; almost a year, to be exact. Not since her last farce of a relationship crumbled, another failure to remind her of her “emotional intimacy” issues. Rey knew dating Poe would be a disaster (all her relationships were), but her misgivings about “shitting where she ate” were rationalized away by Finn and Rose. Dating a friend meant he knew her hang ups, her history, they argued, and he’d understand her. Reassure her.

Spoiler alert: He didn’t, and all that happened was Poe falling in love while Rey was falling away. Just like every other damn time. Except with Poe, when she ran, he chased, unwilling to give her up and armed with her past to use against her.

Their friendship still hasn’t fully healed. 

That last blowout with Poe, technically two weeks after they’d broken up, was spurred by him coming to Rey’s apartment early one morning, a sad attempt to win her back with bagels. Problem was, he ended up arriving just as Rey’s mindless rebound fuck was leaving, sparking the aforementioned argument. And then Poe, heartbroken and furious, ran to Finn and Rose, confessing both of their sins.

That was how Rey found herself sitting in an intervention by her two well-meaning friends, who really needed to cut down on their A&E viewing. They were concerned, they claimed, over her inability to form romantic attachments. Her “commitment issues,” _per se._

Not that she didn’t have damn good reason for any of them.

Despite all of said good reasons, Rey ended up being talked into starting therapy, which (after finding the right therapist) was fine. Although her therapist then convinced her to stop with her penchant for one night stands, telling her she was scratching her need for emotional connection by using meaningless sex.

Which is why it’s been eleven months and three days since she’s gotten laid, choosing to abstain from any sex at all rather than attempt to form an actual connection. She’d invested in a good vibrator, and for awhile, it was cutting it.

But over the past two months, it stopped taking the edge off, and Rey’s been trapped in a haze of frustration. She’s dreamt of big, wandering hands and warm pale skin, plush lips and a good deep dicking, with zero relief upon awakening.

It’s driven her crazy, and that’s why she’s here. Hunting for her prey.

“This seat taken?” The voice comes from behind her, male and inexplicably deep. It makes a shiver run up her spine as she swivels around in her seat, head cocked to the side.

Dark, jet-black hair, long enough to cover his ears but well-coiffed. It frames a pale face, one made of sharp lines and handsome in a masculine way. A strong nose, one that’s undoubtedly been broken a few times, pink, unfairly plush lips. Bourbon colored eyes, raking over her figure as she is his. A chiseled jaw, angular, almost heart shaped. 

Rey has a theory about men with cut jaws; one she’s also verified through the scientific process.

Men with jaws like that eat pussy, and they do it well.

Rey unconsciously licks her lips as she smiles, taking in his broad frame. He’s clad in a sharply tailored suit, black tie loosened, signifying a fellow office dweller. It doesn’t disguise the frame of his shoulders, the bulk of his arms.

It’s like her fantasies have come to life, a gift from the universe to make up for all the shit its dealt her.

“No, please, have a seat,” Rey purrs, reminding herself not to come on too strong. 

The man squeezes past her, his frame ridiculously oversized once perched on the tiny barstool. As he moves, Rey gets a whiff of his scent, tobacco and vanilla and forest.

Christ, she’s already wet.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He grins, knowing how trite his pickup line is.

Perhaps he knows how thirsty Rey is, and isn’t even going to try.

Rey wrinkles her nose. _That_ certainly won’t do.

“Pretty girl,” she corrects.

“Hmm?” He looks away from where he was trying to attract the Amazonian bartender’s attention.

“Your line. It’s ‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?’”

“Who said I thought you’re pretty,” he chuckles, but his eyes, guarded and yet expressive, tell a different story.

“Did you just try to neg me?” Rey’s eyes narrow, annoyance beating out arousal. She might be horny but there’s no way she’s fucking a Redpiller. Not even one that looks like sex on a stick.

The man’s eyes widen, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Not intentionally.” He says, before the jagged smirk returns. “What I meant is, you’re not pretty. You’re gorgeous.”

Rey allows her shoulders to relax, and she tosses her best sultry look over her shoulder. 

“Good. You’re too hot to be a Redpiller.”

That makes Tall, Dark and Handsome grin, lopsided and roguish.

There’s a small alarm bell going off deep in Rey’s psyche, one screaming “Danger! Danger! Warning, Rey Jones, this man is dangerous. This man will break you.”

Too bad Rey’s so keyed up that she flicks said alarm off, silencing it before it can dampen her lust.

“Kylo,” the man croons, extending his hand. Rey takes it, noting how it positively envelopes hers.

“Rey,” she smiles.

—————————-

Kylo knows the Amazon, or Phas, as he calls her. This means Rey’s drinks keep coming, a steady flow of Jameson and ginger drowning any guilt or misgivings she has. Kylo drinks bourbon, neat, and she learns that he works on K Street at some big lobbying firm, and has a voice that makes Rey’s stomach drop. The longer she observes him, the more she recognizes a kindred spirit: he discusses nothing too personal, keeping the conversation smooth, controlled in thinly veiled entendres and disclosing only what he wants. Unlike other men, there’s no mention of home or his family, no insight on where he hails from. He’s respectful enough not to pry about a tanned white girl with a British accent, the only person who’s never asked. It’s is perfectly impersonal, and Rey, silly, dumb, horny Rey pegs him as safe.

Fuck Holdo and her urging for “emotional connections.” She thinks as she sucks on the tip of her straw, the cold metal biting at the skin of her lips. It’s an old habit, one of Rey’s oral fixations, and Kylo’s eyes are glued to her mouth.

She can’t resist but to show the way she wraps her tongue around it.

His pupils blow wide, almost taking over his entire iris so that no brown shows through. For a second, Rey wonders if he’s going to throw her over his shoulder like a caveman.

Instead, Kylo hails Phas for another round with one hand, passing a wink with his request. The blonde rolls her eyes but two more drinks appear, right as Kylo’s hand brushes her knee, bare and exposed by her navy pencil skirt.

Rey can’t help but gasp, her skin positively igniting at the brief touch. She shifts forward ever so slightly, and Kylo responds by placing his hand back on her knee.

His fingers start tracing small circles over skin.

Ten minutes later, Kylo’s left a trail of goosebumps as his hand slowly makes its way up her inner thigh. Rey’s fighting a losing battle, trying to stay focused on their conversation about favorite hiking spots nearby as his digits slide under her skirt, prying eyes blocked by his torso. Rey gives as good as she gets, though, and she cocks her crossed leg up just enough to give Kylo a glimpse of her red lace panties.

Hopefully she hasn’t soaked through them.

Kylo wasn’t anticipating retaliation, and his nostrils flare when he sees the flash of red, slightly darkened by her arousal. His fingers, stronger than they look, clamp down on her skin for a second and Rey bites her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud.

Kylo leans close, eyes shining wickedly and his breath’s hot on her ear. “And here I had you pegged as a good girl.”

Rey can’t resist such low hanging fruit, not when he’s got her practically panting from just his hand on her fucking leg. She turns her head towards his as she breathily replies, “Oh, Kylo, I can be a very good girl.”

His eyes flutter shut for a second and he inhales raggedly.

“Nice girls don’t flash their panties at men like me.”

Fuck, his voice has gotten deeper with desire, velvety smooth and Rey ignores the warning in his words, wanting nothing more than to clamp her legs together to ease some of the pressure there.

“Now, Mr. Ren, I never said I was nice.” She bats her eyelashes playfully for emphasis.

“Christ,” Kylo swears, surrender evident in his eyes. That hand on her leg begins to push upwards, but then stops, teasingly short of where she needs him, as if Kylo momentarily forgot they were in a crowded bar.

“Rey,” his voice is demanding, like Rey’s breaking his precious control and oh, she wants to see this man unchained. “I want to take you home, and fuck you until you come, and then do that again, and again, and again. May I, please?” His bottom lips trembles, and Rey wants to bite it, wants to feel it on her skin instead of his fingers (or maybe both). The desperation behind his “please” makes her feel flushed and dizzy, lust overriding every bit of common sense that tells her to run. 

The man looks like a snack and uses proper grammar, what more can she ask?

“You may,” she grins, wolfishly, and in a fluid motion, Kylo’s turned towards the bar.

“Phas! Close our tabs, please. Put hers on mine.” he orders.

“Kylo, that’s not-“ Rey begins to protest, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand. 

“Please,” he implores, just as the fingers under her skirt skims across her covered folds, making her whimper. 

Rey never lets a man take care of her, at least not financially, but maybe that therapy’s finally paying off because she presses her lips together, dropping the matter.

————————————

Kylo calls a Lyft from his phone to take them to his place, even though Rey lives closer to the bar. She’s more than fine with the arrangement, preferring not to bring hookups into her space unless necessary, and Kylo seeming like the kind of guy who feeds on control. 

The depraved side of Rey preens at the thought of being at Kylo’s mercy. 

They’re able to keep it surprisingly chaste on the ride across the city from Shaw to Georgetown, talking about the local hockey team’s Stanley Cup victory to fill the time. It’s an obvious attempt to allow Rey to back out, change her mind, while also gauging her sobriety. Kylo clearly doubts Rey’s ability to hold her liquor; he’s got no idea how far back she and Jameson go. 

Still, its a gentlemanly, almost reassuring gesture, another thing Rey’s not used to in hookup culture, where everything’s always been too focused on getting off to care about things like consent. She appreciates it now, although part of her hopes maybe this is the #MeToo movement finally making a difference. Both of these thoughts smother the increasingly frantic protests from her hindbrain, the part that always makes her run before she develops feelings, the part that protects her from harm. 

Her reptilian brain knows she’s playing with fire, but her damned evolved ego convinces her she’s safe.

The Lyft pulls up to one of those stately old rowhomes just off M Street, built on a cobblestone street and reeking of old money. Rey cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, taking Kylo’s hand as he leads her inside. If he’s embarrassed by his wealth, he doesn’t show it, instead, unlocking the thick, wooden double doors with his phone and disarming the alarm system all at once.

It’s pitch black when they step inside, all ambient light from outside shuttered by Kylo clicking the door back shut. Before Rey can say a word she’s up against it, hard wood digging into her back as Kylo’s mouth devours hers with a kiss. He sucks her tongue between his lips, working it with his teeth and tongue, sending Rey dancing along the edge of pleasure and pain. 

She moans into the kiss, twining his fingers into his black curls. He kisses like a starving man, and she wants nothing more than to drink him up. He releases her bottom lip long enough for her to run her tongue over the seam of his lips and this new battle continues, their tongues meeting in a duel for dominance. Kylo strokes the length of her tongue with his own, and she pushes his suit jacket down his shoulders, needing him to be wearing less, much less. 

Kylo’s hands paw at her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her nipples through her shirt and bra. His hands are so large that they can encircle Rey’s ribs, and she feels exquisitely breakable in this man’s arms.

The thought awakens something carnal in her, and she’s trying to hitch her leg around his hip while he kisses her jaw, then her neck. He’s sucking the skin over her jugular in and fuck, does that make her squirm. Desire hazes her mind, so much that she doesn’t warn him about how she bruises like a peach, too busy trying to climb him like a tree. Her skirt’s riding up and Rey thinks she must look wild, but Kylo doesn’t care.

Then he completely floors her by grabbing her by the ass and hoisting her up so she can finally band her thighs around his waist, grinding her dripping wet slick against his tented pants. She’s already aroused by his strength, the ease of which he lifted her, but God, feeling how fucking large his cock is, proportional to the man himself, makes her want to come right then and there.

He’s carrying her somewhere, and he stops kissing her long enough to navigate after banging into a side table with a curse. She continues to roll her hips over him, making him tremble and pant as he carries her up what surely is a beautiful wooden staircase. He kicks open a door left slightly ajar, carrying her in before muttering “fuck it” and slamming her against the nearest wall so he can pillage her lips again. The wall is cool against Rey’s back, even through the thin silk of her shirt, and allows her to gain friction as she continues to bear down on his clothed cock, needing more, _more_.

“Fuck, Rey,” Kylo half-moans, half-shudders and then he’s yanking her shirt up, over her head, throwing it somewhere far away in the shadows. There’s a sliver of moonlight coming through the window and Rey waits for the usual disappointed look men like him get when they see her small breasts, still covered by her lace balconette bra.

It never comes. Instead, Kylo lowers one enormous hand over her right breast, cupping it with a pleased sigh. There’s a look of masculine pleasure in his eyes, before he slides his fingers inside to pinch her nipple.

“Ah!” Rey cries out in shock, and Kylo rewards her with a thrust, rocking her hips back into the wall. 

“That’s right, sweetheart, I want to hear what I do to you,” he pinches again, harder, and Rey mewls pathetically. Her stomach is a hot coil of tension, growing tighter and tighter by the minute. Rey claws at Kylo’s shirt, unbuttoning it with a ferocity that should be frightening. 

“There’s my wicked girl, my little tease,” Kylo’s lips are on her ear, and Rey’s starting to realize she’s got a serious voice kink. At least for his voice, that is. “Looking like sweetness and sin all rolled into one at that bar, tempting me with those red panties and your little doe eyes.”

His words caress her ear and she’s moaning, ripping his shirt away as impatience takes over. He’s able to keep her in place with one arm and fuck, that shouldn’t be so hot but neither should this man, pale skin with a few scars and moles dotting his chest. He looks like he’s chiseled from marble, a work of art instead of a human, as his suit hid how truly built he really was. Rey’s sure she’s drooling, and Kylo preens at her attentions, at the way her lips curl into an ‘o’ at the sight of him. 

Then he’s spinning her to the bed, the mattress firmer than what Rey normally likes but still soft enough to tell her its as expensive as the luxuriously smooth sheets covering them. She’s lost a heel somewhere along the way but Kylo removes the other one like he’s Cinderella’s prince, except his glass slipper’s the warmth between her legs. He makes quick work of her skirt, tugging it down faster than Rey can unzipper and she swears she hears a pop but she really doesn’t care. Then she’s lying exposed in just her red panties and Kylo’s eyes are greedy, insatiable. 

“You’re stunning,” he coos before sliding her panties down, too keyed up to wait any longer. He wants to unwrap her, to see her bare on his bed, like an offering. He drags his fingers up, curling it slightly so it presses between her folds and into her clit. It feels like he’s shocked her core with electricity and Rey feels a rush of heat inside her.

“Kylo,” she gasps, and his eyes somehow become ever blacker, obsidian drowning out his irises.

“Be good and hold still for me, sweetheart,” he instructs and then his head dives down to where he’s parting her folds to lick her gleaming wet pussy, flattening his tongue as he goes. Rey yelps, hips bucking unbidden.

Kylo makes a tsking noise before pressing her hips back down, locking her in place with his free hand. “I said hold still, Rey.” and she wants to tell him to go fuck himself but then his mouth returns to her cunt and he’s swirling around her clit, pointing his tongue to press against the hard nub at the apex of her thighs. She keens, low and needy, as she fights to keep still.

“Fuck, yes, Kylo,” she pants, and he groans into her at the sound of her pleasure. The rumble of his baritone vibrates against her and she tenses, a wave of pleasure washing over her as the coil inside her constricts.

He continues to loop his tongue around her clit, eating her out in a way that Rey’s only dreamed of. Another victory for science, she thinks hazily, right before she feels something circling her soaking entrance. She unconsciously spreads her legs wider, granting his finger better access as he gathers up some of her juices before pressing the long digit into her.

“God, Rey, you’re so tight,” his voice sounds strained, like the thought alone of being inside her makes him want to come and Rey can’t help but cry out at the thought of breaking his precious control, bringing out his animal side. She feels powerful, heady, as he slowly works another finger into her, stretching her deliciously. He thrusts them in, out, pumping in time with his licks before he finds that spongy bit of her walls, just before her cervix. He rubs his fingers against it and she’s dancing on the precipe of an orgasm, muscles tensing as she moans.

“Fuck, Kylo, I’m going to - please, don’t stop,” and that asshole stops, his grin positively evil as he looks up at her.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he’s so fucking smug but Rey doesn’t care, loving the way he looks with her wetness dribbling down his chin. 

“No, Kylo, I’m so close,” she pleads, and Kylo moves his fingers, ever so slightly, making her walls clench down even harder. “Please,” she begs, knowing that’s what he wants, this smirking bastard with a mouth like an angel’s. It works, and his eyes flash, the predator going in for the kill as he goes back to licking her ferociously, making her toes curl and her teeth tingle. Then he curls his fingers up, into her g-spot and Rey shatters, body going rigid then slack as she screams. 

Her orgasm leaves her breathless, spinning, and Kylo pulls his fingers out with a wet squelch. He’s already worked his pants off with his other hand, but left Rey the honors of removing his boxers. It takes her a minute to lift herself forward, using only her ab muscles (thank you, Solidcore) so she can peel his boxers off. Finally freed, his cock springs forward, tip leaking and red, as if angry that its not already inside of her. 

‘You and me both, buddy,’ Rey thinks. 

He’s huge, bigger than she’s expected and Rey gulps, hoping he’ll fit inside of her. As if he senses her trepidation, Kylo kisses her reassuringly before moving away for a moment. 

“You don’t have to-“ and Rey’s the one cutting him off with a kiss now, her hand drifting down to stroke his hard cock while she does. His skin’s velvet smooth there, and oh, does she shiver at just how thick it is. 

“Fuck me,” she meets his eyes when she says it, so he knows she wants this, can see it in her eyes. Something in him snaps and there’s a tearing noise as he moves away. She sees the metallic foil of a condom wrapper glint in the low light of the room as Kylo prepares himself for her. Then he’s flipping her around, onto her knees with that brute strength of his, making her skin grow hot and her walls flutter. 

Slowly, almost too slowly, he pushes into her, every centimeter of his thick cock splitting Rey down the middle in a decadent way. He groans as he bottoms out, the feeling of finally being inside of her making his shoulders shake. Rey can’t help but feel complimented.

“Rey, sweetheart,” his voice is shaky, a man wrecked by the feeling of her, “you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet.” His hand grabs her ass, pulling her closer as he begins thrusting into her, making his cock drag along that spot at the front of her core.

“You were so good for me, sweetheart, such a good girl,” he’s bent over her as he fucks her so he can whisper at her ear, having figured out what it does to her. He’s rewarded by her pulsing around him and he moans, breath sticky-sweet on her skin as he does. “And you’re still so good, your cunt’s so good, want to absolutely wreck you, sweet Rey.”

Rey knows he means it too, and it occurs to her that he already has, that no one, absolutely no one, will ever fuck her as well as this beast of a man, no one will push her buttons and make her wail like he does, not now, not ever. It scares her, makes her want to curl away but it also excites her, that part of her that likes to live dangerously, that may just actually crave some connection, one it can only find through sex.

He wraps his hand into her hair and uses it to tug her back, so her back is arched and she can see him. It’s not particularly violent but there’s a sharp bite of pain that seems to heighten her pleasure and she keens his name.

“Fuck, Rey, that’s right, sweetheart. Scream for me.” 

His words come at the same time he wraps his arm around her waist to press at her clit, rubbing at the place that makes her writhe on his cock. The familiar heat inside her is an inferno, and she sees stars as she comes around him, her walls seizing and milking him until he chases her orgasm with his own. He hammers into her furiously, thrusts uneven and she falls apart again, still sensitive and primed from her last orgasm.

Finally, they collapse into a heap of sweaty limbs, boneless and exhausted. It takes a minute for their breathing to return to normal, much less Rey’s mind, still enshrouded in bliss as she musters some form of sentient thought.

Before she can think about leaving, before she can move to get up, Kylo’s arm is locking her down, keeping her there. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but I’d really like you to stay for awhile, long enough so we can wake up and I can fuck you again.” There’s something guarded about his voice, like he’s aware that she’s chipping at his walls like he’s doing to hers. His hand’s hot against her skin, and she’s feeling a chill from the air conditioner, as well as her own self-preservation.

She needs to leave before he ruins her, but then again, he’s already ruined her and Rey can’t complain at all, God dammit. She knows she should get up, follow the trail of clothing to the door before calling a Lyft, to save both of them; but the allure of him, his warmth, his scent, his cock, is too strong and Rey finds herself nodding, relaxing into his touch.

“I’m probably going to regret this too, but that sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he growls, before yanking his comforter around them, encasing her in its warmth. He doesn’t cling too tightly, but there’s an arm draped over her waist as if he needs to be sure she’s still there. 

She should buck it off.

She doesn’t.

Maybe therapy really is working, she thinks sleepily. Or maybe the only therapy she needs is Kylo, the perfect drug to fuck her fears away.

She’ll deal with it in the morning, she swears, before exhaustion overtakes her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get better at my smut writing, so hopefully, this wasn't a total shitshow as I wrote it, edited it, and posted it all within a six hour timeframe. CC is very much welcomed. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed sexually liberated Rey scratching that itch with our favorite Supreme Leader with a side of repressed feelings.
> 
> (Yes, I wrote them as living in DC. Shoutout to my homies.)


End file.
